


There's A Good Reason...

by hollowbirds (torturousthings)



Series: Written About You [3]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Ryden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torturousthings/pseuds/hollowbirds
Summary: please listen to the song while reading if you can! it was written while listening to it, so it should be read that way too :)





	

**Author's Note:**

> please listen to the song while reading if you can! it was written while listening to it, so it should be read that way too :)

Ryan walked in the ballroom, and took in the gigantic chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the marble floor and all the people milling about, women in fancy colourful dresses and men in their monochrome suits, pretending to be comfortable in their over-polished shoes. Ryan wasn’t pretending; he was out of place and he knew it. 

 

Making his way to the buffet as discreetly as possible, he picked up a smoked-salmon canapé. It was inches away from his mouth when a woman’s scream pierced through the monotonous hum of the socially compulsory conversations. The crowd turned towards the source of the scream like one being, hundreds of eyes searching for the reason of the disturbance. 

 

“How _dare_ you come here?” 

 

A woman —a girl, really— in a bright red dress had a finger accusingly pointed towards someone Ryan couldn’t see. Tears were streaming down her face, tinted in black from her makeup, and her hair was out of place, loose curls escaping from her once-neat chignon. She had one hand on her chest, as if whoever she was pointing at was threatening to shoot an arrow right through her heart. 

 

Ryan took a few steps forward, curious as to who was the cause of the tears but determined not to get involved. A masculine voice answered the woman’s question derisively.

 

“Oh, Margaret, haven’t you heard?” 

 

Ryan was finally able to get a glimpse of the person who had spoken. It was a dark haired young man, dressed in the same colours as every male guest in the room, a mocking smirk decorating his lips. The room was silent, everyone holding their breaths, waiting for the rest of his sentence, and Ryan felt like the man knew that. He took a sip from the champagne glass he held in his left hand, then spread his arms wide, as if he were a performer that had just finished his tricks.

 

“I’m the new cancer, Mags.” 

 

Ryan didn’t know what that meant; but, clearly, the woman did. Another shriek rang out as she threw a punch glass she snatched from the buffet towards him, which he dodged gracefully, not spilling a drop of his champagne. The glass smashed into a million little glistening pieces on the white wall behind him, tinging it with pink. The smirk was still on his face, dark eyes taunting her. 

 

An older woman had appeared by Margaret’s side, trying to calm her down, talking to her in a hushed voice, and Margaret was trying to answer her through her sobs. 

 

When the older woman seemed finally get the information she needed, she turned her ice blue gaze to the man.

 

“Brendon Urie, you are a despicable man.” 

Margaret was whispering something over and over again to herself, teary eyes fixed on the floor. The man —Brendon— scoffed, as if he heard those words every day. The woman spoke again, now addressing the crowd that had gathered around them.

 

“This isn’t a show! Go back to your own businesses,” she said, and, as if realising how rude she sounded, added, “Ladies and gentlemen,” for good measure. 

 

Ryan barely heard that, though. He was staring at Brendon, and Brendon was looking back at him, eyes like two burning coals in his face. The smirk had disappeared as soon as people turned their attention away from him and went back to talking about their insipid daily lives, and now a small smile was on his lips. 

 

Ryan stood there as the other man made his way to him, eyes not leaving his face. Once they were standing in front of each other, Brendon extended his hand. 

 

“Hi, my name’s Brendon Urie. I hope that little episode wasn’t too disturbing,” he said simply as Ryan shook his hand. 

 

“I’m Ryan,” he said, and Brendon smiled. 

 

“I hope we’ll get to know each other soon,” he said, taking another sip from his champagne glass. 

 

Ryan knew by now that he was trouble, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from nodding. Brendon definitely didn’t look that despicable. Ryan smiled.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Time To Dance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8689222) is the sequel of this!


End file.
